The Long and Winding Road
by Dance Elle Dance
Summary: She is most beautiful in this moment, when the freedom is thick in his bones, when it swirls in his lungs with each breath he takes; however, for some reason he cannot shake The Arrow's presence from his mind. OliverFelicity, set during 3x23, oneshot


_**Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own Arrow._

 _ **Summary: She is most beautiful in this moment, when the freedom is thick in his bones, when it swirls in his lungs with each breath he takes; however, for some reason he cannot shake The Arrow's presence from his mind. OliverFelicity, set during 3x23, oneshot**_

 _Alright! Here is my first attempt at OliverFelicity. I mentioned I would write them soon, but I had no idea it would be this soon. I really hope y'all enjoy this little fic. I haven't seen season four yet, so I really don't know what happens - except the things I have accidentally been spoiled on. So, this is set during the moments where Oliver and Felicity are driving away in the last episode of S3. I'm just going with a "road trip" scenario here. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy!_

* * *

 **The Long and Winding Road**

* * *

The wind feels good on his face, blowing through his short-kempt hair, rushing over the thin t-shirt he wears. He feels the urge to squint, to shield his eyes from the harshness of the breeze, but doesn't. Oliver Queen keeps his eyes open and sees everything.

There's a strange lightness to his chest that he hasn't felt in what seems like decades. The darkness is still there, fostered into him by countless encounters and countless lives lost, but for now, it is stemmed back, back in the recesses of his mind, far away from this perfect moment.

For the first time in a very long while, Oliver feels _free_.

He focuses on his surroundings, without fear for his own life. The sun's rays as they warm his skin, the blue of the sky as it wraps around that great big star, the thin white clouds that wisp through the air without any particular destination. Oliver smirks; if he ever would have imagined he would compare himself to _clouds_ of all things, he would have locked himself away a long time ago.

Most of all, he focuses on the fingers intertwined with his own.

Oliver chances a glance out of the corner of his eye, and sees Felicity staring back at him, a smile curving her full lips, blonde hair in disarray around her face, the strong winds from their car ride having pulled several thick chucks of hair out of ponytail.

She is most beautiful in this moment, when the freedom is thick in his bones, when it swirls in his lungs with each breath he takes. Somehow, everything seems clearer in this moment, every little puzzle piece in place - it had taken a long, long time, of course, but now things might just be where they are supposed to be.

There is, of course, that inkling in his stomach - that strange, nudge of something more. The darkness, trying to rear its head in this picture perfect scenario. Oliver stamps it down, as he has done for the past couple of hours. This is not the time, although that part of him seems to think the opposite.

He knows a part of him can never be removed from that state of needing to survive, from the state of needing to protect the city, to bring honor to his father. That part of himself will always be there, whispering in his ear, beckoning him back to his calling.

 _They need you..._

Oliver inhales, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the steering wheel tightens.

 _Yeah,_ Oliver thinks, and looks over to Felicity, who has now moved her gaze out in front of her, to the road ahead, to the journey ahead, _but she does, too._

There are so many heroes in Starling City, so many more than when this venture first started. Each skilled in their own way, each capable and strong and righteous.

 _They will be fine._ Oliver believes it more than he would have years ago, but still the need stirs.

And he stamps it down, yet again.

Even now, out on the open road, so free like this, his fingers sometimes twitch, itching for a bow string that is not there, his eyes sometimes flicker back and forth as if in search of an unseen enemy. Each time he is incorrect in his assumption, the actual cause of his unease being the wind blowing through leaves, a too loud customer in the diner they visited last night, housekeeping knocking on the door of their hotel room.

But it is over, it is over, for him, at least.

 _Is it?_

Oliver gives himself a curt nod as he subconsciously presses his foot harder on the gas pedal. The very action, the feel of acceleration, makes him take in a deep breath.

All he needs is the road in front of him and Felicity at his side. This is the truth. There is nothing else.

 _Except..._

The feel of adrenaline as he swoops down the side of a building, the sense of power as he draws back his arrow, the creaking of the string, the smell of leather, the deep booming of his voice, _you have failed this city_ , zooming across the streets on his motorcycle, running, running, running, voices in his ears, _this way Oliver they're on your right_ , turning a corner, face twisted in a grim line -

"Oliver?"

He turns to look at the blonde next to him. The tone of her voice suggests that she had been calling out to him for a while now. Felicity looks mildly relieved he has finally responded, and her shoulders relax the faintest amount.

"Are you okay?" she asks. The sunlight gleams off her glasses.

There's a pause. _Is he okay? Are things alright?_ Those questions seem so loaded it takes him a while to answer. He can almost smell the pollution of Starling City, although it is miles behind them, has been for quite some time now, and the answer becomes even more muddled than it was before.

Oliver reaches over and brushes the hair from her face, his eyes softening, his mouth curving upward in a smile.

"I'm fine, Felicity," he says, grinning. The grin doesn't feel false to him, but then again, those are the ones that are the most dangerous. "You're here."

Felicity snorts, shaking her head just the slightest amount. She clearly thinks the endearment is his former playboy coming out, but her cheeks redden regardless. "Geez, you really know how to flatter a girl."

"Well," he begins, the smirk never leaving his lips, "I _am_ Oliver Queen."

 _I am The Arrow._

The thought almost causes his hands to tremble.

Delicate fingers wrap around his. She says nothing, only looks at him with a reassuring glance. Something about the way her eyes soften as they look at him allows the tense knot in his gut to release.

"Well, where to now, Mr. Queen?" she asks. The skillful way with which she distracts him is masterful, and not at all unwelcome.

Oliver shakes his head as the car continues its path down the road.

"Anywhere," he replies, and wishes it were true.

* * *

 _ **End.**_


End file.
